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Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Here we go again! Scott starts crying. I look at him and he's got his little index finger hyper-extended and jabbing the air. He's got his bottom lip jutting out a mile. And he's making sounds that are a combination of forced crying and incoherent babble (lots of "yah" and "nah" noises). If it's really bad, he proceeds to run up to me and try to hide/slam his head into my legs. He's trying to tell me something, but what? This is Scott's version of a tattletale. His finger is pointed in Claire's direction.

Scott still doesn't really speak at all. Somehow I always thought that I'd only have to deal with the bane of tattling with children who speak, but I was wrong. Scott has mastered the art of tattling without speech. I keep trying to tell him that his tattletales will be much more effective if he learns to talk, but he's too busy tracking Claire with that accusatory finger...

Saturday, July 28, 2007

I'll never forget the shock and horror. It was about 6 months ago. I went into Claire's room to get her after she was done with nap time (READ: after we spent a half hour or so with her wreaking havoc in her room and poking her head out the door every 23.4 seconds to ask if nap time was over). I looked at how much she had bent the slats of the aluminum blinds (don't you just love cheap apartment blinds?). I got a little annoyed and started to try to bend them back straight. Then I saw them. Bite marks on the blinds. "CLAIRE!!!WHY did you BITE the blinds?" What was wrong with my child? What would posses her to bite long thin strips of aluminum? I can straighten plain old creases fairly well, but bite marks linger...

Fast forward to the present. When we moved into our house, I noticed that the blinds in Claire's room are a little mangled in one corner. As look more closely, I realize they appear to have been bitten. The effect is different (they're vinyl) but just as unsightly. HOORAY! The previous owners had a 4 year old. Maybe my child is not the only freak who will bite blinds. Sure the blinds I have taken ownership of are ugly, but I take such comfort in the idea that someone else's kid appears to have a similar window covering mutilation fetish. But then I remember: The previous owners also had a dog. Ah, well, that just brings us back to my previous post...

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Well, we're finally in the house now. I don't know that I'd go so far as to say that we're "moved in," but all our furniture is here and we sleep here now. I only brought the computer over from the apartment today - FINALLY. We're loving living in a house though. When we first started spending time at the house, Claire discovered that there was a bathroom downstairs and one in Mom and Dad's room. Two bathrooms! I had to show her that in fact there are THREE!!! I walked her around and showed them all to her. She counted them with me and was ecstatic. So then one time when M was using the master bathroom and I was using the downstairs bathroom, Claire announced that she needed to go too. She ran off to the hall bathroom upstairs exclaiming, "We can all go potty AT THE SAME TIME!!!" So there you have it, we have achieved the American dream: the ability for 3 members of our household to pee at the same time!

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

I begin calling out to M in a panicked voice: "Take that...Cl...Sc...hu-yah.... GET THAT OUT OF HIS HAND!"

I think I'm frazzled because I've begun speaking with inarticulate exclamations. Why didn't I just get up and take the crayon from Scott instead of just grunting away like some paranoid neanderthal? We're moving to the house in less than 60 hours (but who's counting?). I'm really starting to worry that we won't be ready. This nagging worry is a big blow to my deep set belief that with enough preparation and planning, any event can go smoothly. I mean, why should I be stressed about being "ready"? We have our apartment for a little over 2 weeks after we move our furniture over to the house. That should be ample time to take trips in our van to get anything that isn't ready on moving day.

Clearly there is a rule that supersedes my planning theory: Moving always sucks.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

We spent most of yesterday cleaning our new house to get ready to move in. The door from the kitchen to the garage has a little dog door in it from the previous occupants. The kids quickly discovered this. Claire thought it was a very convenient way to keep talking to M while he worked in the garage! Scott saw it less as a means of communication, and more as an escape route. He never actually made it out, but he tried! Seeing my children's faces peeking out of a dog door reminded me of my firm stance that we won't have a dog until we're done having small children. Why have a dog when you already have a toddler!

Observe the parallels:

-They slobber all over the place.-They chew on everything, especially important or expensive things.-They beg for your food when you eat.-You're not supposed to feed them whatever you're eating.-They don't come house-broken.-They'll play with their own poop.-They wake you up in the middle of the night.-They howl.-They can't communicate, unless you count puppy dog eyes.-They freak out during thunder storms.-You have to give them obedience training.-You have to teach them not to bite.-You have to get them shots.-They come in from outside with grass in their fur and get mud all over your floor.-You have to bathe and groom them.-They like to play fetch.-Their toys are all over your floor.-They sleep in what basically amounts to a cage.-You can't leave them alone for too long.-They get really excited when you come home.-You have to spell out the few words they understand to keep them from getting too excited.-They're always underfoot and making you trip.-They follow you around the house.-They want to play ALL THE TIME!

But when it's all said and done, at least children grow up and eventually learn to say, "I love you."

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Whenever he isn't busy doing something else like drawing on my walls or handing me live beetles, Scott walks around sucking his two middle fingers on one hand and poking his own belly button with his other hand. If I keep him in shirts that snap at the crotch or overalls, I can foil his attempts and keep him just poking his clothes all day. But if I succumb and put him in a regular shirt, he pokes his belly button raw. But today was a bit more ridiculous. I caught him trying to put objects INTO his bellybutton. I mean LARGE objects. Flashlights, toy trains, water bottles, etc. Scott's belly button is currently an outie because he's got that toddler-with-internal-organs-too-big-for-my-abdomen-so-I-have-a-pot-belly look going on. His belly button currently sticks out more than mine did 9 months pregnant with either kid. So why would he try to put anything in it? There isn't even space for any lint, let alone household objects...

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Today 7-Eleven celebrated their 80th birthday by giving out free slurpees at their stores. The kids and I stopped by after swim lessons and got 2 free slurpees (in little cups resembling glorified shot glasses, but hey they were FREE so what do you expect?) I highly recommend the sugar free Tangerine Lime flavor. The kids didn't like it and preferred the typical cherry flavor (YUCK if you ask me), which made me happy because for once I didn't have to share my treat with them! But the best part of it all has been the number of ways Claire has found today to mangle the word "Slurpee." I've enjoyed the progression: "Shudger""Schlurger""Sludger""Lurbser" "Shlurper" and finally she has settled on "Slurper." In fact, she keeps correcting me when I say "Slurpee." Well, at least she made progress and I can't really argue that "Slurpee" sounds any less disgusting than "Slurper"...

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

The big event for today is that we now officially own our first house. But I'm not ready to write about that. Maybe I'm in denial, or maybe it's buyer's remorse, or maybe I'm still processing it all. Or maybe I just figure the longer I ramble, the longer I can delay dealing with the train-wreck that is our house following the last couple days...

So instead let me say: If you don't know where to find Claire, just check under Scott's crib!

Let me give a little history: M is still frustrated that Scott gave away his fabulous hiding spot during our family game of hide-and-go-seek last night. I was "seeking" and M was hiding under Scott's crib. I would have never thought he'd fit under there so I would never have looked there if Scott didn't keep looking behind the dust ruffle down there. I asked Scott what was under there, thinking perhaps I would find a rogue sippy cup of milk or something.

INTERRUPTION!!! Scott was crying in his crib when I thought he was already asleep. Unlike Claire who will summon every imaginable excuse to delay going to sleep, he NEVER cries unless something is actually wrong. Turns out he had his foot wedged in between the crib slats.

So back to my story. Like I said, I looked under Scott's crib and there was M!

Well, maybe even a little more history is relevant: We're getting ready to move in about a week and a half. We used to keep a whole bunch of water bottles under the kids' beds, but now we moved them out to the garage to get ready for the move. Why is there water under their beds you ask? Well, we clean out old juice bottles from Costco and fill them with water in case of an emergency. Maybe we're a little weird, but it works for us. Lo and behold, this quirky habit turned out to have a secondary benefit. Claire stopped being as afraid of monsters at bedtime when we told her they wouldn't fit under her bed - there's too much water under there! NO ROOM FOR MONSTERS! It all works together very nicely. As far as she's concerned, water must have some sort of Monster-repelling powers (nod to Signs) because not only are there normally about 20 some-odd bottles of water under her bed, but Mom and Dad also use the "monster spray" gimmick on her. Some water in a spray bottle is the best monster-repellent money can buy. Way to go H2O!!! (Okay, now I'm just being cheesy...)

Anyway, now that the water's gone from under the kids' beds, M could fit in a place he normally couldn't. Claire thought that was hilarious!!! Monkey see, monkey do! So now, when I make "unreasonable demands" like "Don't hit your brother!" or "Let's eat dinner!" Claire will run into her room and "go home" which I've found out adds up to hiding under Scott's crib...

Monday, July 9, 2007

At church on Sunday, the poor people behind us probably vowed never to repeat that mistake. Scott is a sweet kid. He's almost always happy, eager to please, and cuddly. So naturally, when you give him nice, quiet church toys, he turns them into projectiles. Scott is all boy. He's addicted to balls of every shape and size. He loves to throw things. Claire has a beautiful fabric quiet book made by my mom. One of the pages is a pelican with a fishing rod. Hooked onto the fishing line are 3 detachable fabric fish. They are flat. Not at all spherical. But Scott throws them nonetheless. And this is not an isolated incident. Consistently, he wants us to unhook them for him so he can throw them. You would think we'd learn. On Sunday, he threw one directly at the face of someone behind us. Oh yah, and did I mention that he sucked on it first until I could almost wring spit out of it??? Maybe he thought the fish would seem more realistic if it was slimy...

As I sat today letting Scott poke and jab at my teeth with his toothbrush in order to appease his desire to make brushing his teeth before bed a shared event, I realized I need to actually start posting to this blog.I've had so many "Where is the laugh track?" moments in the last few months, but they passed un-recorded because I haven't gotten my act together until now and tied up all the loose ends for getting this blog started. I had the blog address, I had the concept, but I hadn't made up my mind about how public or anonymous I wanted this blog to be. I finally set up a more anonymous account for myself. I think I've struck a good balance. For those who know who I am, so be it. For those who might stumble upon this blog without my explicit invitation, so be it. I suspect that most people who ever see this will see it because I told them about it anyway, so I don't know why I care, but anyway... (Delusions of grandeur!)So here we go! I will start posting to this blog, even if only for my own personal gratification. (Hey, it's cheaper than therapy, right?)

PS - I suspect this will be mostly a text-based blog. If you wanted pretty pictures of my kids, then there's 2 options: (1) If you actually know me, ask me and I'll happily give you a link to our Shutterfly collection (2) If you don't actually know me, then deal with it. It's really not appropriate for strangers to be staring at my kids. (It's bad enough that you can read about all the silly things they do...)